In the wake of war and devastation, it is a bit (actually, it is extremely) shallow to bemoan the arrival of a pimple. I will ask you to forget about all that is important in the world at the moment, and take a look at this:

It is painful; it is throbbing!

I am reminded of the wonderful British dark comedy "How to Get Ahead in Advertising" when I look in the mirror. Hopefully, my second head will be the one that is able to work with my boss.

Knitting? Oh...yeah...that...I finished a Manos del Uruguay hat for Joe's mother, using the pattern from Last Minute Knitted Gifts. There must be something screwy with my row gauge because the hat is definately "shorter" than I anticipated. Nevertheless, it fits Mrs. Jones' little gray bean, and that is what matters.

Otherwise, I am still plodding along with my ChicKami, whilst I ponder other patterns with lustful needles and heart.

That is Joe's slender bottom (and horrid tye-dyed shirt) in the picture.

My Christmas Haul was very rewarding. Here is a small selection of what I received.

Joe gifted me with a certificate to a local spa, as well as an IOU for a dinner in Manhattan and a massage. I am contemplating how to swap the gift cards for yarn money.

The day was very sedate. Joe napped after opening presents, and I spent hours pouring through Rowan's Vintage Style, Rowan Magazine #36, and Stitch 'n' Bitch Nation. There is a great section on individualizing a pattern, however, I am not entirely sold on the the book. The pattern selection is a range of clever, funky, and fun, but only one or two of the patterns are something that says Gina.

Lukas and Kevin sported their knitted hats from me the entire day. The ultimate "thank you". Joe's mother loved her Manos scarf, and I am sure she will love her Manos hat -- once I get my butt to the store and buy the proper-sized DPNs to finish the decreasing.

This is the flower I created for the flower swap. It is hand felted merino wool roving, designed to be held in a bud vase. I lightly attached a pin back in case Jessamy wished to wear it rather than use it as a decoration.

Nothing like a viewing of Stanley Kubrick's "Full Metal Jacket" to get you in the mood for the holidays... I spent last night glued to the television, knitting the scarf for Joe's mother. Thankfully, holiday celebrations are rather lax at our house, so I will be able to give the scarf a bit later tomorrow than the crack of dawn. While the kids, unlike me as a child, do not jump from bed to open presents as dawn breaks, Christmas Day might be the only one of the year that the kids rise before 11:00am of their own volition.

I spent the afternoon at Yarn Central, enjoying split pea soup (made by fellow knitting student, Gail) and bread (made by me) and the company of the proprietress, Marjanna. It was a lovely way to spend a few hours with very special ladies. I often feel very distant from my friends who reside in NYC, and these ladies have made my new life in exile so far north of Manhattan quite wonderful.

There was a package on the table when I arrived home. Royal Mail, which means that it is from Jess, my Pinkus Flower Swap partner. It is just lovely!


As if the adorable flower was not enough, Jess included additional goodies.

Yes, my friends...that is a Colinette bouclé yarn! I have to remind myself: Joe's mother's scarf...Joe's mother's scarf...No new projects...Joe's mother's scarf...

Merry Christmas to everyone in Whoville.

I survived the company holiday party, in spite of the fact that my boss came roaring into the office at 11:50am (vs. my 8:45am) ready to put in a full day of work in the 40 minutes before we clocked out to drive to the party.

After arriving to the party an hour and one half after the rest of the company, he asked if the company owner was going to make a speech. We informed him that the speech was given over an hour ago, but the owner asked my boss if there was anyhting he wanted to say. He gave this rousing holiday speech: "Work, work, work. More of the same and more of more next year."

He later took the seat beside me and wished me a "very happy holiday" as follows:
B: "Those clippings on your desk? What are they?"
M: "Clippings of a few soap opera stars wearing what I think is our jewelry, but I have to confirm that with J*** or K*** next week."
B: "Next week, we have to get busy with the show set samples and sales samples. We did get three sets of samples today (at 12:10pm, mind you), but I guess we won't be pinning those today..."
M: Sideways glance. Small, tight smile. Subtle shift of posture to communicate Sod off, I am not talking work at a party.

The handwritten directions were a bit "iffy" so I wound up driving 30+ minutes in the wrong direction. By the time I merged onto the Taconic Parkway, it was teaming rain. Stuck in the horrid rain, pinned against a Jersey barrier was a female turkey. On the highway! What a strange sight. I had no eggnog or spirits of any sort, so I know that it was not an alcohol-induced vision. I hope it made it to safety eventually.

If you are wondering what I finally made for the ornament exchange -- a pre-work drive to Kohl's to pick the remaining innards of the exploded Holiday Department.

At home, I was greeted by my The Knitting Garden order.

I cannot get too excited about this Rowan Felted Tweed, lest it suffer the fate of my Rowan Summer Tweed.

That is roughly 3" of the waistline on Sage,

which I started in September.

This project is moving right along...

Kevin's Cool hat is done.

1 skein of Filtes King Kevin
(substituted for Rowan Plaid)
roughly 2 sts = 1" on US #8 needles
knit flat and seamed afterwards, per Rowan pattern

I wish I could say I am as proud of my felted ornament (for tomorrow's holiday party) as I am of the hat.

Since the tree looks like a mutant starfish, there is no choice but to move on to another option. We shall see what inspiration (or desperation) brings. There is a felted cat toy around here somewhere. I might just jam a wire through it, glue on some beads, and eccola!

Christmas Eve is looming. A box arrived from my parents today, and it is with great restraint that I placed the presents beside the shrubtree. They were singing to me, "We're here; open us!"

Today I saw a sign for The Living Nativity at a local church. Many years ago, I lived in the Olde City section of Philadelphia, near the Old First Reformed Church. One particular December morning whilst dressing for work, I noticed that my trousers were a bit snug. Feeling icky and porky, I waddled my way to work. A few steps past the church, I heard a MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. Stunned, I stomped back to confront the ignorant bastard -- a cow!

Given the state of reality television these days, I am a bit frightened to imagine the lengths to which the living nativity may now go...

I went bed around midnight to the frightening vision of snow. Previously, I have mentioned my novice driver rank, but I cannot stress it enough. I am a Supreme Snow Driving Novice. As in, never. Ever. Have I driven in the snow. The 2-inch dusting earlier this month does not count. This was many inches. This was heat your car up for 20 minutes snow. This was lose a limb to frostbite as you clean off your car snow. This was "sorry, Boss, I can't make it out of the driveway" snow.

I will admit that I could have tried a bit harder, but the smell of burning rubber and all of that revving without moving was adding to my sinus headache. The miles of mountain and interstate highway between home and office was not helping the headache either.

Engine off. Back to the couch. Nothing soothes a sinus headache like a few rounds of knitting, back-to-back episodes of "Murder, She Wrote" (it must be snowing like hell in Cabot Cove), and a long chat with a friend in NYC.

Honestly, I wish I could say that I swept through the house like an organizing banshee; that I wrapped Christmas presents; that I cleaned the house to the point of being able to sup from the floor. Well, I could say any and all of it, but I would be a big fat liar.

I did, however, make meatloaf. I like cooking a warm and hearty dinner for the kids and Joe on a day like today. I am trying to convince Joe that we need a more traditional household. Traditional like: Gina home. Joe office.

Even if I allowed the weather to keep me from my duties, my postal delivery person did not. The lovely Wendy Zibs sent me a little Italian giftie.

The yarn is a contender for Clapotis. The magazines are in Italian, which should be a hoot if I decided to knit from them. I read and speak a bit of Italian, but conversational Italian is not knitting Italian. The mental image of the resulting sweater has me giggling.

Somebody slap a brain into my head.
I have agreed to two shifts at my former cosmetics counter this weekend. I left this job to avoid retail at Christmas, and now I take it on, voluntarily, for the last shopping weekend before Christmas? As Ren would say to Stimpy: Eeeediot!

Before my shift tomorrow, I will be standing in line at the Post Office(!!) to mail two packages. One is to my Flower Swap Pal. I had tried to avoid the Holiday Mail Crush and handle this online, but the USPS wanted $15.00+ for international shipping. Ouch! Taking another approach, I asked Joe to mail it Monday. His office is close to a Post Office, mine is one hour from a post office, and I stupidly agreed to four evening shifts at above-mentioned former employer of the retail variety.

This morning, I found the packages on the front passenger seat of my car. Between this discovery, some unpleasant oral contraceptive issues, and a raging sinus headache, I was certain that my head was going to explode over the car interior. Thankfully, I have a full wash raincheck from my last oil change, so I would be spared cleaning my own grey matter from the upholstery.

So befuddled was I, that I sat silently waiting...waiting...until I realized that I needed to start the car. The whole act of driving was beyond my mental capacity at that moment, (Please remember that I obtained my license 5 December 2003 and bought my car in March 2004) and there are some days when I really forget that I own a car and can drive (legally).

It is still an automatic response for me to walk to the passenger side of Joe's car when we leave the house. It never occurs to me that I could drive. Well, it does occur to me, but I parse it out. I use my driving us in the same way that some women use sex -- bribery.

My mother engaged in this sort of bribery -- the driving kind -- and it worked with my father. Typically, she would use this trick to get out of cooking and get a dinner out. While I did not inherit her cleaning compulsion (scrubbing the skirting board with a toothbrush, etc.), I certainly learned a trick or two about how to artfully manipulate your man in small, harmless ways.

Sadly, I must have learned a few other things, as I very nearly uttered the words, "I give you an inch and you take a mile" to Lukas and his friends tonight.
Somebody slap a brain into my head.

Since the start of the week, I have been working a full day at the jewelry design firm, as well as putting in four hours at any one of the cosmetics counters at my former job. The pace is not something that I could sustain for any length of time, and how anyone works two jobs amazes me. One of the Lacome workers holds down two part-time jobs, full-time school, and a part-time internship, and I can only assume that youth (19) is what is holding her together.

All of the drive time has afforded me the chance to reflect and ponder. Thus, I present a small list of guilty pleasures.

1) The song "You Spin Me Round (Like a Record, Baby). Don't ask who sang it. A friend of Boy George's. I am too tired to search it out.

2) Fondling yarn and textiles.

3) Chili cheese fries with hot sauce and ketchup. During my Penn State days, I could finish off an order of fries at Ye Olde College Diner. Not just fries; A. Pound. Of. Fries.

4) Doing the opposite of the unwritten public rules; such as facing the other passengers in the elevator, or squeezing into the middle seat of a five-seater on the train that is typically "reserved" for those same four train-friends.

5) Anchiovies on my pizza, in my salad, even in my pasta.

6) America's Next Top Model. Since I have mentioned Roland Barthes and Marshall McLuhan, you understand that this is purely academic inquiry. But I love it!

7) The smell of skunk and the smell of gasoline. The latter is less appealing now that I am the one pumping it and paying for it.

8) Joe rubbing my shoulders. Oh, that is just pleasure. No guilt.

9) Allowing Snickers on the bed when I am home sick. Purrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

10) Celine Dion's voice.

11) The smell of a Wilson's Leather store. So dead animal. So mall. Forgive me.

12) Sweet Home Alabama. The song.

13) Blasting that song from Jet, speeding through turns, and pretending that I am in one of those BMW movies (or a Guy Ritchie movie) with Clive Owen and Jason Stratham. Never you mind that I do not have big black boots and long, brown. I am still sweet with my get-back stare. Obviously, I am driving something other than my very practical, blue Saturn.

My dragonfly pin from a beading workshop I attended this evening:


As far as the flowers rising, I have to finish my Flower Swap flower. Finishing is pretty much the story of my weekend.

Three projects on the needles:
1) Suss Designs knitted handbag from Hollywood Knits Style (for me)
2) Boogie Knits Hat Trifecta, Man version (for Kevin)
3) ChicKami with a Honeymoon Cami bottom (for me)

Final finishing
1) Secret gift requiring a mere 12" of seaming and a button
2) Flower Swap flower

The hat for Kevin will be frogged, as I am uninspired by the Classic Elite Waterspun in Forest. The Waterspun London Beanie for Lukas was inspiring, but the depth and blandness of the green for Kevin's hat is killing my soul. I think this might be a better option from Rowan's Plaid Collection.

(image from The Knitting Garden)

The ChicHoneymoonKami will be an ongoing project, especially since warm weather (nor a honeymoon, for that matter) is not in the near future.

Above all, this weekend, I must get my eyebrows "done". I could put a 1980s Brook Shield to shame.

At the risk of sounding like an absolute scrooge, I really dislike this time of year. Oh, I like the lights, the decorations, the eggnog. What I dislike is the forced cheer and socialization with people that you may not know or care to -- your co-workers.

The holidays always strikes fear in my heart. It is a difficult time. For those of us who are able to make a clear distinction between friends and co-workers, the looming gift swap is a nightmare. Whether or not the swap is stated as a voluntary affair, we know that is a lie. To not participate is to open yourself up to scrutiny and gossip.

Like many, my financial status is up and down. There have been years where spending even $20 on a relative stranger would have been a bit of a hardship. And quite honestly, I would rather spend that $20 on a complete stranger: either a Knitty Secret Pal or by giving a donation to the cause of my choice. If I do not exchange gifts with friends and the bulk of my family, why would I wish to do so with co-workers?

This extends beyond the holidays into life events such as marriage and childbearing. Again, we are tethered by the workplace, but does that automatically command my attendance and gift at a baby shower?

Years ago, I started a temp assignment in New Orleans. To make me feel "part of the office", I was invited to a baby shower for a most unpleasant woman. I knew that lack of attendance would forever brand me an outsider and make me the target of the snide whisperings of this group of women. I also knew that I had a limited budget, but the workplace exerts the most unusual pressure.

For nearly every day of the work year, one is condemned for socializing (be it personal email, personal phone calls, or "excessive socialization" with co-workers), and then on this one day, we are to come together, bearing gifts? Count me out.

I Don't Wanna Work

I feel like someone is inside my head, banging on a drum. This week has been shitty health-wise. Tuesday and Wednesday were a mad swirl of UTI distress, lower back pain and spasms, cramped hands and kinked shoulders (from the never-ending mass of jewelry to be unpinned from sales boards), a tension headache, wooziness from a bout of insomnia, blurred vision and nausea from a on-coming migraine, throbbing face from a sinus headache -- all culminating in that little dot at the end of a sentence. PERIOD.

Undoubtedly, many of the above symptons are directly related to the menses (I love that word). But tell that to the part of me that found the walk from the bed to the bathroom too tiresome. The result? This is my third day home from work.

In spite of the cacauphony inside my head, my lower back, and my ovaries I did manage to be somewhat productive. I cooked, I baked bread (with the bread maker that has been used approximately 1.66 times for every year I have owned it), I organized my roving and yarn, and even managed to churn out a bit of knitting. Just a bit, mind you. Napping was the top priority, and I did not want to push the limits of my hand-eye coordination.

My bit of knitting was just a few hours last night and a bit this morning, whilst watching a riveting documentary on the life of Marshall McLuhan, produced Christmas Gift #1.

A London Beanie for Lukas.
I used less than one skein each of Classic Elite Waterspun in Navy and Cherry.
5 sts = 1" on #7 (4.5mm) needles

There is enough of the cherry colorway for another little giftie.

What shall it be?

It shall be very hard to return to work tomorrow. That's what.